


What If? Part One

by booknerds_unite



Series: What If? Series [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DreamSMP - Freeform, Father-Son Relationship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Phil is tired, dream is a homeless green bitch but we love him, no beta we die like men, please read this ill give you more, this is a hypothetical situation, wilbur is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booknerds_unite/pseuds/booknerds_unite
Summary: What if things didn't happen as we know them in the Dream SMP?What if Wilbur Soot didn't die at the hands of Philza Minecraft?A series of hypothetical situations from the Dream SMP
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: What If? Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117778
Kudos: 20





	What If? Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! so this is the first time I've written for the SMP, but I've just had so many ideas and so here we are! Feel free to comment, send questions, kudos, and so on. This is the first part in a series and I have no idea how many I'll write so please ENJOY!

Through the damp walls of the cave, Wilbur Soot could still smell the stench of war. The sharp copper sting of blood, the suffocating smoke that filled the air. There were some things he couldn’t identify, nor did he want to. He just wanted it all to go away.

He could hear them too, even though the war had ended hours ago. The noise threatened to drown him. The screams of battle and the desperate cries for help pulled at every side of him, threatening to pull him apart limb by fucking limb. Wilbur’s thoughts were almost too loud for him to bear.

He felt like he was being pulled underwater. His lungs burned as he stalked down the long stone corridor, muttering to himself. 

His Chekov’s gun. His redstone masterpiece.

“There was a special place, there _was,_ ” Wilbur muttered, raking his sweaty palms through his hair. His eyes, nervous and full of tears, danced around the room to examine the words scribbled on the walls. 

“I don’t think it can exist, I don’t think it can exist again, even with Tubbo in charge.” Wilbur eyed the button, wedged into the wall between verses of his beloved anthem. “The button’s right there… if I’m ever gonna press it, it’s now.”

A shudder ran through his body, starting at the tips of his toes and running up his spine. Wilbur’s heartbeat raced like a war drum…

_Bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum…_

“THE THING THAT I BUILT THIS NATION FOR DOESN’T EXIST ANYMORE!” He bellowed, slamming his fist into the space beside the button. “The thing I worked towards doesn’t exist anymore. It’s over.”

Silence washed over him like the ocean, his rapid breathing like thunder in the lonely cave. His eyes fixed on the button, Wilbur raised his fist…

“ _What are you doing?”_

The silence was broken, like a gunshot in the night. Wilbur turned, his body tense like a wire. 

“Phil?”

Again the voice: “What are you doing?”

Wilbur tried to play it off. He couldn’t see Philza Minecraft’s winged figure yet, which meant he had time. “I-I wasn’t doing anything, we just made Tubbo president. We, we-uh, elected Tubbo president and we won! We won the war, Schlatt’s gone. So it’s, uh, it’s good Phil.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. So, you are, where exactly now?” Phil sounded closer and Wilbur knew right away that his carefree act had failed. Phil was basically his father, _was_ his father. Wilbur couldn’t lie to him. 

“Iiiiiiiiiin L’Manberg.” Wilbur winced as he drew out the vowel, “You wouldn’t know, I don’t think you’ve been here. It’s the area around L’Manbe - it’s complicated.” 

As he spoke, lying directly out of his ass, Wilbur turned. In the doorway, dressed in his familiar green robes and striped hat, wings almost at a defensive position, was Phil. 

“In L’Manberg, you said.” His father’s tone of voice sliced straight through Wilbur’s soul, but he tried his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Okay,” Wilbur held up his hands defensively, “I will admit… do you know what this button is?” 

“I do.” Phil took a few steps into the room, his eyes very focused on Wilbur. 

“Have you heard the song on the walls before? Have you?” Wilbur didn’t wait for an answer. “I was just saying that there was a special place for men to go but it’s not there anymore, you know?” His lip began to tremble, the tears in his eyes spilling onto his cheeks. Phil’s expression softened.

“It is there, you’ve just won it back Wil,” Phil answered softly. 

At his words, all of Wilbur’s pent up emotions exploded. “PHIL, I’M _ALWAYS_ SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THIS BUTTON. Phil…” He looked over at his father with red eyes and a tear-streaked face, “I have been here like seven or eight times. I have been here so many times.” He glanced at the door. “Oh, they’re going to come here, I don’t want them here, I…” He quickly closed off the entrance, but not before the sounds of battle reached the cave once again. “Phil they’re fighting.” 

“And you just want to blow it all up.” 

“I do, I think, I…” Wilbur trailed off, listening to the echoes of swords clashing and rockets exploded above them. 

“After you fought so hard, _so hard_ , to get this land back?” Phil shook his head. 

“I don’t even know if it works anymore, I don’t even know if the button works. I could,” at this, Wilbur smiled, “press it.” 

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, but Wilbur knew he was nervous. 

“There was a saying Phil, by a traitor.” Wilbur felt his hands begin to shake. He glanced over at Phil and gave him a small smile. 

_“It was never meant to be.”_

With a deep breath, Wilbur Soot pressed the button and saluted his country one last time. Phil looked at him in shock as the room began to shake. The wall collapsed to reveal that Wilbur had indeed destroyed L’Manberg, just as Eret had before him. 

Wilbur couldn’t quite identify how he felt. He wasn’t _happy_ , but he wasn’t _sad._ Was he finally at peace? Was this how peace felt, knowing that you fulfilled your purpose? 

The screams of horror from his friends and enemies alike filled the sky as Wilbur looked on. Phil looked back at him, disbelief plastered across his features. “It’s all gone!”

Wilbur raised his arms towards the sky, watching the smoke rise toward the clouds. “My L’Manberg, Phil! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED!” He glanced back at the winged man. “If I can’t have this, no one can Phil.”

Phil just stared at him, muttering soft exclamations of disbelief. In the distance, Wilbur could see the other citizens of L’Manberg making their way across the rubble and the final puzzle piece of his plan clicked into place. 

He had to die. 

His heart began to race. “Phil, kill me.” He tossed his sword to the other man. “Please, Phil. Kill me.” His voice, which had been so strong a moment earlier, was now desperate. “Stab me with the sword, murder me now.” 

Slowly, as if underwater, Phil picked up the sword. “Kill me, _Killza,_ c’mon, kill me!” Wilbur knew Phil would help him, he loved him, right? “Kill me, c’mon they all want you to.”

Phil turned and looked at the crowd slowly working across the burning remains of L’Manberg. 

“Do it, Phil. Kill me. Phil, kill me.”

“You’re my SON!” Phil shouted, his eyes full of tears. His wings had drooped to the ground, almost as if they were sad. 

Wilbur took a step closer. “Phil, KILL ME!”

“No matter what you do, or did, I can’t…” Phil trailed off, staring at the sword in his hand. Wilbur slammed his fist into the wall, almost thankful for the pain. 

“PHIL, look, LOOK!” Wilbur pointed to the ruins with his throbbing hand. “How much work went into this and it’s gone?” He took another step closer to his father and reached for the hilt of the sword. “Do it.” 

With a gasping breath, Phil lifted the sword and positioned the point in the middle of Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur placed his steady hands on top of the hilt, on top of Phil’s, and nodded. “ _Why?”_ Phil whispered, “ _Why couldn’t you have just been happy with winning?”_

Wilbur said nothing. Instead, he leaned his forehead against Phil’s and began to hum. 

Suddenly, the point of the sword was gone. Wilbur opened his eyes to see Phil standing across from him, the sword resting in his hands. 

“Phil?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” His father turned and tossed the sword into the crater. “I won’t have that on my hands.” 

“PHIL!” Wilbur scrambled towards the edge, but Phil pulled him up by his collar. 

“Now you go down there,” Phil pointed to the crowd of people, who were listening to Technoblade and Dream, “and you _help them._ Or I will see to it personally that you live a long life getting punished for this.” 

Wilbur yanked his coat from Phil’s grip and slowly made his way down from the cave. The crowd had moved their attention from him and Philza to Techno and Tommy, who were arguing. Wilbur could just make out Techno’s hand sneaking into a bag at his side. 

Just before he made it to the group, a rough hand yanked him to the left. The green poncho and white mask of Dream came into his peripheral vision as the man dragged him away from the group. 

“Dream? Where are we-”

“Shut up.” Dream hissed. His mask was cracked and exposed about half of his face, something Wilbur had never seen before. Dream’s one eye was bright green and seemed to stare straight into Wilbur’s soul, his mouth pulled into a determined grimace. His skin was filthy, still covered in a layer of dirt, sweat, and blood, but Wilbur could just make out a mess of freckles that dotted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His blond hair stuck out from under the hood of his poncho in matted tufts, grey from ash. 

They reached the edge of the crater and Dream quickly threw Wilbur to the ground. “Walk.” He pointed towards the border of L’Manberg. “Go. Get out.” 

“Dream, I-”

“ _You were supposed to die.”_ Dream hissed, his face centimeters away from Wilbur’s. “I told you to _die._ ” His voice was surprisingly calm, despite the anger in his eyes. “I’m giving you one more chance.”

Dream pulled a second sword from the scabbard on his back and tossed it on the ground next to Wilbur. His eyes became closed off, his own personal mask taking the place of the missing porcelain pieces. 

“Dream, I tried.” Wilbur pulled himself onto his knees and slid the sword into his own scabbard. “And nobody knows I got the TNT from you.”

“Tommy knows.” Dream glanced back towards L’Manberg. “But Techno should be taking care of him.” 

Wilbur felt his heart drop to his feet. He stood and looked at back at his L’Manberg. Skeletal shadows - _withers_ \- loomed over the crater like storm clouds, the sounds of battle permeating the air for a third time. Guilt threatened to slither its way into his heart, but he shoved it back. 

“There’s nothing you can do Wilbur.” He turned back to face the masked man, who held out a small knapsack. “Now _go,_ before I kill you myself.” 

His limbs felt like they were full of lead as he took the bag from Dream’s hands and took his first steps into the unknown. Behind him, Dream loaded a rocket and fired it into a nearby tree, knowing that it could be seen from L’Manberg. 

To everyone that mattered, Wilbur Soot was dead. 

Wilbur walked and walked, trudging through biome after biome. It wasn’t until his stomach grumbled that he remembered the bag at his hip. He slipped his hand into the knapsack as he walked, hoping it held some food, and was surprised to find it mostly empty, except for a piece of cloth and a note. 

_Make sure to cover your face and change your name. You’re dead now._

_Dream_

Wilbur stopped and took a seat on a log to further examine the cloth in his hands. It was a mask, nothing like the porcelain masterpiece on Dream’s face, but a mask all the same. Slowly, his hands steady, he tied the yellow cloth around his nose and mouth. 

To everyone that mattered, Wilbur Soot was dead. 

To everyone that mattered, Wilbur Soot was a _ghost._


End file.
